Everywhere the light-giving globes sent their roseate radiance.
The cuirassed dwarfs led us through the aisle.

Within the arc of the inner half--circle was another glittering board, an oval.

But of those seated there, facing us--I had eyes for only one--Yolara! She swayed up to greet O'Keefe--and she was like one of those white lily maids, whose beauty Hoang-Ku, the sage, says made the Gobi first a paradise, and whose lusts later the burned-out desert that it is.

She held out hands to Larry, and on her face was passion--unashamed, unhiding.
She was Circe--but Circe conquered.

Webs of filmiest white clung to the rose-leaf body.